


A Private Moment

by afteriwake



Series: nongentorum [38]
Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Caretaker Joan, Concerned Joan, Friendship, Gen, Joan Watson Has the Patience of a Saint, Joan is a Good Friend, Male-Female Friendship, POV Joan Watson, Post-Episode: s03e12 The One That Got Away, Season/Series 03, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock is Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7486953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On one of her regular visits after Kitty leaves, Joan begins to have hope that, perhaps, things might be okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Private Moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreenSkyOverMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenSkyOverMe/gifts).



> So this was written for **GreenSkyOverMe** as another one of her untranslatable word prompts. When I saw the word I immediately thought of Sherlock and Joan, and I wanted to set it in a (probably) AU setting after Kitty left in season 3 (which is, unfortunately, the point I am up to in my viewing of the series). Hopefully it is still a good fic even though I only have a vague idea of what has happened in the rest of season 3.

“Do you ever think if people heard our conversations they’d lock us up?”

“Most likely,” Sherlock said, not looking up from the lock he was dismantling. “We are not ordinary people, Joan. We have conversations that are not about ordinary topics. If we did, we would not be having the types of revelations that solve the cases that we are presented with. It matters little what the minds of ordinary people think when they overhear snippets of the conversations we have.”

“It kind of matters when someone threatens to call the police,” Joan said, a tinge of humor entering her voice.

Sherlock looked up them, giving her a look. “Well, Gregson would straighten it out if the police who were called in were not aware of who we were and what our importance to the NYPD was.”

She felt a smile form on her face as she studied him. He studied her in turn, the look not exactly a calculating one, but one where he was taking her in, looking at all she had to offer in the moment. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, to be honest. No more than her companionship for now. They had stopped being sober companion and client long ago and were now friends. Good friends at that; she might even venture to say _best_ friends, even if they had their moments where they held back. After he’d left for London and come back with Kitty and she’d moved on to make a name for herself, she had thought that might have changed, but even then, it hadn’t.

“Mamihlapinatapei,” he said, and she blinked, being drawn out of the moment.

“What?” she asked, tilting her head.

“What we were just experiencing,” he said, moving his hand back and forth between them. “It’s an untranslatable Yagan word, the closest definition of which means ‘the look shared between two people experiencing a private moment, in an expressive and meaningful silence.’ In case you were wondering.” He went back to the lock then. “Another tidbit of useless knowledge for you to file away, should you choose to.”

Joan pondered that for a moment, then got up and moved to the table to sit next to him. “Do you want me to come back?” she asked quietly. Now with Kitty gone, thanks to what had been done to Del Gruner, which frankly Joan thought he rightfully deserved, she worried about Sherlock. She wondered if it was all right for him to be alone, which was why she spent more time at the brownstone these days than she did at her own home.

He shook his head. “There’s no need. Your increased schedule of visitation will suffice, I’m sure. Especially if our case rate increases as well. It will be as though you practically live here again.” He picked the lock back up and then picked up a tool in his other hand. “You needn’t worry about me, you know. I will not fall apart because Kitty is gone.”

“I will still worry whether you tell me not to or not,” Joan said, resting a hand on his arm. He stilled in his actions. “You’re my friend, Sherlock. Friends worry whether you like it or not. I’m sure you worry about me?”

“On the contrary, I believe you are in the best possible position for your life right now,” he said, beginning to move again.

Joan observed him. Oh, he was good, he was _quite_ good, but if there were nine hundred different ways he could cover up a lie she could almost just as easily spot the one tell that would give it all away. It was all his fault because he was that good of a teacher. “Liar,” she said quietly, her tone gentle.

“I am not,” he said, his tone just mildly defensive. Not enough for an argument, just enough to know he acknowledged she had seen to the heart of the matter. She waited to see if he said anything else on the matter, but there was nothing more from him, just the sounds of him tinkering with the lock. Fine. So he wasn’t going to budge tonight. She hadn’t known him for as long as she had to not know how to play this game and play it well.

She removed her hand from his arm and reached for her phone. She could at least make sure that he ate tonight. Chinese sounded like an option she was sure he’d be fine with, and so she went to pull up the number to his favorite restaurant. “Fine. You can lie to me. _For now._ But when you’re ready to tell me how you _really_ feel, you know I’ll listen. In the meantime, I’m going to order Chinese because I know you’ll have that lock dismantled in...” She looked up from her phone. “Twenty-three minutes if I stop distracting you, and there should be food to celebrate. I’ll get your usual from Ming’s Dynasty.”

She had just put the phone to her ear and stood up to pace while she placed the order when he spoke. “Twenty- _one_ minutes,” he said, a hint of smugness to his voice.

She rolled her eyes. “Prove it.”

He grinned and set the timer to his side. “You’ll see I’m right, Watson.” That got a grin from her, and made her think maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.


End file.
